


All of this, it's just the start

by GibbousLunation



Category: Uncharted (Video Games)
Genre: F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Serious Injuries, fatherly Sully is concerned about his dumbass companion, spoilers for uncharted 4
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-12
Updated: 2016-07-12
Packaged: 2018-07-23 16:10:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7470279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GibbousLunation/pseuds/GibbousLunation
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The kid was always a mystery, diving headfirst into danger without a second thought but always somehow landing feet first and laughing the rest off like it were nothing at all. Except for of course, when he didn’t.<br/>But that was alright, because Sully was always there to pull Nate back up and on his feet again. <br/>Or, five times Sully was there for Nate and one time he realized Nate had always been there for him too.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All of this, it's just the start

**Author's Note:**

> So just to remove myself of any blame, I barely edited this and wrote it mostly at like 2am but I decided to post it anyways so!   
> I really appreciate Sully and Nate's friendship and I feel like there's not enough representation of them as BFF's/mentor and younger unruly partner so I just wrote this to hopefully fill that niche. Plus yanno, Sully cares a lot about Elena and there needs to be more of that also I think. Anyways, my first attempt at an uncharted fic so hopefully it's alright! Enjoy!

Sullivan was always a man with a silver tongue, could talk his way out of anything, charm anyone, work words like magic anywhere. And yet, he lived an isolated life. Charming and twisting the truth didn’t make you many friends, surprisingly enough. Stealing didn’t make you popular either. Sullivan was many things, loyal had never really been one of them. For a price, he’d flip allegiances faster than a pickpocket could book it down the street.

Funny, that a certain slippery pickpocket changed all of that for him then.

He was old for the business these days, in over his head even. He’d never much cared before, always in it for the money, for the rush of adrenaline. Now though, now there was something to protect.

Sully used to be a business man, used to be the kind of person that worked behind the scenes where he was less likely to be hanging off cliffs or end up with a barrel of a gun pressed to his temple. Or at least, not nearly as often. He liked talking to people, he’d always been a people pleaser of sorts; the way a clients smile lit up and their eyes shone when he got what they were looking for, it was almost as good as the money itself. Almost.

Strange to think how his world had narrowed down to such a fine point these days.

Nathan Drake, shithead preteen with a sly grin and a quick mind, cocky as all get out. Then later, a snarky teen with a more driven passionate heart and a stronger sense of loyalty than anyone he’d ever met. The same young adult that constantly found himself in trouble, breaking things, and on the wrong side of every cliff face they tumbled across. Kid had a knack for getting into danger and slipping away just barely in the nick of time.

Sully blamed him for the majority of grey hairs on his head.

It was odd though, to think of the Sullivan who hadn’t cared much for anyone other than himself, and the Sully today who’d burn the whole world apart just to see one kid smile.

There were others he cared for too, of course. Elena, namely. Old contacts, friends too. But there was something to Nate’s wide eyed and excitement filled take on the world, something to the way he used to hug his shoulders inwards and flinch at the slightest sound, something in the pain and hurt that weighed his young heart down but the optimism that kept it rebounding skywards nonetheless. Nate deserved better than he’d had it to say the least.

Deserved better than a dead older brother, dead parents, and a life of near death situations. He remembered the day that Nate had stumbled onto his doorstep, shaky and pale and hollowed out in a way that sent alarm bells blaring through Sully’s every system. He remembered the way Nate had breathed out two words, like he couldn’t believe them but he had to anyways, like everything he’d had left in the world had been taken from him and he didn’t know where to go next. ‘He’s dead,’ Nate’s heart was breaking right there in front of him, and Sully had seen this before, too many times but he’d never seen anything like the absolutely decimated look in the kids eyes.

All Sully could give him was a friend, a guardian. All Sully had to give was everything, and by god for that kid? To keep him smiling and sniping sarcastic comments day in and day out? He would.

Nate used to talk about his big brother like the guy was gold and diamonds, like he was the sun in the sky and the stars in the night. Sully’d only met him a handful of times, Sam was so often in and out of odd jobs, of jails and detention centers and just plain on the run. He always came back for Nathan, though. Always appeared out of nowhere to pick up Nate and take him wherever it was they went- some kind of adventure probably, a new clue, a new shithole for Sully to dig them both out of- and Sully would watch the way the kid’s entire demeanour would spark up, the way for once Nathan actually looked like a kid.

Only of course for it to crash down again as Sam got himself in over his head and Nate was back out alone on the streets.

Not that the kid was ever, really alone. Since Columbia, the kid had always had Sully wrapped around his little finger. And the little shit knew it too.

But then Sam was dead, the light sputtered out and everything ground to a jerky halt. Sullivan was there, still, ready to pick up the pieces and drag Nathan back together bit by bit. Not that Nate really let him, of course. Too quick to play the ‘everything’s fine’ card and carry on like always.

Probably learned that one from Sam, he suspected.

He remembered, in unsettling detail despite the fifteen odd years of distance, every second after Nate shuffled across his threshold that night. He was bedraggled, bruised and dirty and gaunter than all get out. Sully hadn’t seen the kid for months, gotten a ‘I’ll tell you when I get back’ for even trying to ask, and suddenly he was just there.

Half dead, half barely hanging on, all skin and bones, and just a whisper of a voice. Sully had known, like the way he knew everything about Nate that this was a volatile moment. That one false move could shatter everything apart, shatter Nate apart. He recognized the flighty, cagey look in the constant flexing of the kid’s fingers from the day they’d first met but the lights in Nate’s eyes were too dark. He was all unfamiliarity bundled up in sharp edges but there was Nate underneath it all and dammit, Sully would have died himself before he left Nate to self destruct alone.

So he’d just opened up a beer, passed it to Nate slowly and told him to take a shower. He didn’t say things would be okay, or better in the morning because nothing could fix this. Nothing would fill the half that had been broken off and burned and nothing would bring Sam back.

‘I’ll be right here, kid,’ he said softly without a trace of a smile and squeezed his- far too thin- shoulder as he passed him to the couch. And by some miracle, it had been enough. Maybe the reminder that not everything was lost, that Sully was still here and still a constant was a lighthouse amidst the fog and it was enough to bring Nate back whole.

Maybe Sully needed the reminder himself too, that Nate needed him just as much.

 

* * *

 

Skirting death was part of their day job, it happened so often and with so little breathing room in between they’d learned to sort of just take the punches as they fell and shoulder the rest. Take quick stock of your limbs, clear your head with a shake or two, get back on the bike. Really, nothing to it.

They’d both ended up with their fair share of bruises and broken bones over the years, often in illegal situations wherein hospitals weren’t an option. A to go kit for emergencies, some gauze, and a swig of hard whiskey were usually enough.

Except of course, for the rare occasions when they weren’t.

Nate had some terrible luck; if breaking things wasn’t his forte, falling off of things sure was. Sully usually believed Nate would just, grab on to whatever ledge was close by or else somehow miraculously slide on through but, the bad luck had to catch up once in a while.

“Hey, Sully, how far did you park the car?” Nate’s yelling voice barely rose louder than the guns peppering the air behind them. A typical Tuesday afternoon, in other words.

“Just around this corner, but we’re going to have to cut across a few roof tops,” He called back, and by god he was too old for this kind of nonsense but he loved every second of it all the same. A flask of pure gold swung somewhere inside Nathan’s knapsack—rent for the next fourteen years and then some he was sure— the sweat trickling down his neck that just as easily could have been blood if he were a second slower, the reflexive sharp inhale just before plunging across a gap that might-just-be-too-wide before gracelessly ducking and rolling to the next one.

“Of course we are, I mean, why have the car right there. Too easy to jump in and drive away oh no, no, no.” Nate muttered, a smile lodged between breaths.

“Quit complaining, I got twenty-five years on you,” he ducked a near hit from a stray bullet, dodging through a cluttered room and busting through the flaky wooden door on the other side. “and I’m moving faster than you are!”

It was the thrill of the chase, the tantalizing dance with death, and he might be getting too old but Nathan’s wild and frazzled grin was more than enough to keep them both powering on.

Until suddenly, of course, it vanished.

“Oh yeah, old man? Well I’d like to see you try – oh crap!”

A puff of dusty air where he’d once stood, like something out of a cartoon, and Nathan’s sarcastic quip hung somewhere in the air above them. But Nate was nowhere to be found.

“Nate?” It was so sudden, the chase almost momentarily forgotten, but this sort of thing happened all the time. The kid was probably latched onto a walkway down below, grumbling and complaining his ass off as even more trouble found its way to his feet. “God dammit kid.”

He jolted back to a run as the bullets grew frighteningly louder, assuming Nate would scramble his way back up with a distant ‘I’m okay!’ any moment and not daring stray too far without him. Nate was a cat, always somehow landed on his feet. Any second now.

The angry armed men behind them started yelling, Sully instinctively dived behind cover but shit, there was too many of them now. His momentary pause had allowed the distance between danger and safety to grow inescapably wide and in a few seconds, he’d be entirely surrounded. And he still didn’t know where the god damned kid went.

“Search the area,” An accented voice growled somewhere far too close for his comfort. “Fan out, they’re here somewhere.” Heavy footsteps drew closer, crowds of civilians on the streets scrambled farther away in fear, and Sully glanced down at his pistol and his remaining bullets and swore in as many words as he knew.

Suddenly, the familiar ticking of a grenade filled the air. Sully dived without thinking, feeling rather than seeing the explosion on his back as he rolled through midair.

God _damn_ he was too old for this.

As the smoke cleared, he realized in a sort of stunned, distant way, that the grenade hadn’t been meant for him. The building he’d been crouched within was nothing but cinders and ash, an empty barrel drum of gasoline clanked down in front of him, and by god only one person in the world could have pulled a move so reckless.

“Nate!”

He pushed himself off the ground and flat out sprinted, with all the speed he possessed to the burnt beams and ash. A panic in his lungs he couldn’t quite take a full breath around.

“Kid, where are ya?” The grenade had landed in front of him, just outside the doorway Sully had dived behind when Nate had—

He lifted a beam, pushed rubble aside with renewed, fear driven strength and saw a limp hand appear just beyond the collapsed structure. A quiet groan filled the space in between and Sully slid across a flattened wall before he could even process the sound. “Nate, kid, god damn you had me terrified for a moment there, you’re gunna give me a heart attack one of these days I swear—“

He’d been expecting Nate to be dazed, banged up but still smirking. Maybe even injured but in his typical ‘I’ll be fine after a shower and a nap’ fashion. He hadn’t been expecting the blood, or the backwards bent angle to his wrist, or the concrete wall half pinning the kid still underneath the smouldering remains.

“Jesus H Christ…” and if Sully hadn’t already known how deeply his world revolved around the kid, the way his veins nearly froze over at the lines of pain across Nate’s brow, and his chest tightened in sympathy would have told him everything he never could have strung together the words for. He’d never seen the kid so banged up before, he must have brought the whole building down just to…

Sully sighed shakily, rubbing a hand across his face. “Aw hell, kid… You didn’t have to blow yourself up for my sorry ass…” He shook himself, focus. There’d be back up on the way soon enough, or curious townspeople, either way Nate and him had to move. Sully eyed the slab of concrete, strewn across Nate’s already wheezing chest; the thing looked heavy, heavier than Sully would typically be able to move on his own. But the kid’s eyes fluttered open for a half second, a sleepy “Sully…” trailing from his lips before an animalistic whine took over and to hell with everything else, Sully was getting him out of here.

The rest passed like a blur, he knew he’d hoisted Nate out of the shit hole he’d created, messily pulled him alongside and to their waiting getaway car. He knew that if the car had been his for much longer, the bloodstains on the backseat would probably still give him nightmares. He knew Nate had very nearly bled out on a dusty backroad with Sully yelling at him to stay awake, and that not all of the blurriness in his vision was from stress and a lack of sleep.

Having an emergency kit on hand sure came in handy, but Sully wasn’t a doctor. He knew how to make a few stitches, how to cauterize big bad gunshot wounds and how to get the bullets out before the wounds festered, but he wasn't equipped to deal with too much blood loss, with potential internal bleeding or hemorrhaging. He didn’t know much about the complexities of lungs or ribs, or really have a way to help any of them; Nate’s ribs were blown to shit and back and he had no way of knowing if there was something worse waiting around the corner. Sully wasn’t a praying man, but that night in their run down hotel room with the dim flickering orange of the only lamp nearby, Sully would have taken all the help he needed just to keep the kid breathing.

Nate whimpered slightly, sweat and grime caking his clammy skin. 

“C’mon kid, destined for great things remember? You can’t ditch out of our deal like this…” Not that their deal even mattered anymore, whether the kid ever treasure hunted again, Sully would still be there. He wasn’t sure if he felt fatherly towards him, Sully never really pictured himself as that kind of man, but they were family. In the ten years he’d known Nate, the kid had changed everything. If he left now, let go when he was still so young—

Sully would never forgive himself. No, even more so, he'd never forgive the world for showing him something so hopeful and feisty and god damned annoying just to snuff it out. He'd probably drink himself into an early grave, go out in a blaze of fists and hurt and anger. It would be so impossibly unfair, so immensely cruel, and so perfectly his luck these days.

He watched Nate’s chest rise and fall shakily, the wheeze still present but less so with his ribs bound tightly. Sully figured his lungs were still intact but there was always the chance, especially with the kid’s knack for the worse possibilities. An old contact in the area was coming by in the morning, one with far more medical expertise than he had, and Nate would be _just fine_. He just needed to get through the night, just one night and they could be laughing about all of this soon enough. 

“It’s going to be just fine, you’re tougher than this boy-o,” he brushed a few sweat matted strands of hair away from the kids brow, then leaned back in his chair. Nate shifted slightly, a vague mutter whistling through his lips.

“’S gunna be okay Sully, s’gunna….. ‘kay..”

Sully snorted, relief swooping through him even though the kid stilled. “Yeah, Nate. It’s going to be alright.”

He wouldn’t let the kid slip away on his watch, not now and not ever. Morning would come soon, daylight was nearly breaking across the mountains in the distance even now. In a few days’ time he was sure the kid would be making just as many snarky jokes as always, and refusing to rest like he should. And Sullivan would be right there too, god help them both.

 

* * *

 

Victor Sullivan wasn’t a cold hearted man, never been particularly warm but he liked to keep his hands mostly clean if he could. Sure, he stole things and money and objects, but mostly he just schmoozed a whole bunch and let other people do the dirty work. He was known in some circles to be quite the double crosser, though. A supposed insult that he used in his favour—if everyone knew you could be bought out by the highest bid, the upped the prices.

However, there were always exceptions to that rule. Namely, he didn’t hurt kids. Namely, he sometimes thought too much with impulse and not enough with rational and reasonable decision making. Those occasions always led him to bad places, like scaling a building to throw his current employers agents off of rooftops, or getting himself fired from one of the best paying gigs he’d stumbled across all for a god damned teenager.

Somewhere beneath his cigar smoke and brusque muscle, it was sort of comforting to know he still had some kind of moral compass. Strange place to draw the line, but comforting nonetheless.

There was talent in the kid, though. He was leaping rooftops and ledges like he’d done it all his life, with a cocky smirk to boot. But there was also fear, not so well hidden underneath that as well. The kid was alone, clearly not local, and far too young to be caught up in something so dangerous. He looked for all the world like a typical street urchin, but he was after Francis Drake’s ring. Out of all the valuables available in the museum, he wanted a single ring and that was all. There was definitely, most certainly more to this story than Sully could gauge from the outside. Either way, he couldn’t leave an unarmed kid to fight off an entire army. Certainly not when they worked for Talbot and Marlowe of all people.

Plus, just maybe, slightly, Sully found himself in the kid.  He was quick with words, always looking for an exit plan. Reminded him of himself in his younger years. They could make a good team, the kid as a thief and he as the silver tongued distraction; make a good penny off of it. This area was too unstable for a kid his age to be leaping rooftops alone, he had no idea how he’d managed to get to this country in the first place but something wasn’t quite right.

He couldn’t offer much, couldn’t promise anything more than a place to sleep and a second pair of eyes watching his back but hey, he could try.

He needed to be honest with the kid, he remembered his starting days and it was always easier to distrust and back away than shake hands, particularly when the hand was attached to an unfamiliar liars face. The kid’s eyes were already shuttering, his hands twitching uncertainly like he was planning to bolt but knew there was nowhere safe to go.

“Let’s try this again,” Sully sighed. Even ground, no sudden moves. “Victor Sullivan, my friends call me Sully.”

“Nathan Drake,” the kid said with the ghost of a smile. “Nate.”

“I see great things in our future, kid.” He leaned back, watching the way the kid- Nate’s- shoulders slumped, and something hopeful nearly rekindled in his eyes. “Great things.”

Later, there’d be jobs and mistrust and a prison sentence for a kid far too inexperienced to handle any of it and there Sully would find himself ready to bail the boy out. Later there’d be long talks on plane rides and far too many trust exercises, and a brother soon to be released from a different jail. But for now, there was a sliver of safety and a hint of hope, and a long sip from a cold beer.

“So, where do we go from here?” Nate asked, voice suddenly small. Sully kept his eyes closed, the picture of serenity.

“Where ever you’d like, boy-o.”

“Really? That’s it? No big plans or schemes?” Sully cracked one eye open, noting the furrow in Nate’s brows and the uneasy confusion rolling off of him in waves. He sighed.

“Listen, Nate. I’m sure you’ve been hatching your own schemes left and right, but this Francis Drake trail isn’t going to get us very far at the moment without that decoder whats-it. Let’s start small, alright?”

Nate mumbled something, latin sounding from what Sully could catch and his eyes were everywhere and nowhere all at once.

“Kid. If we’re going to be a team we gotta work together on this. Trust me.”

“I don’t….” The kid hitched his shoulders up to his ears, like he was folding himself away and dammit, Sully had said the wrong thing again somehow because they were backtracking again. “I’m not supposed to trust anyone.”

Ah, and there he was. The scared fifteen-year-old buried beneath all of the sass, the one with wide eyes and messy hair that pulled at all of Sullivan’s heart strings all at once.

“I killed someone today,” Nate whispered into the table, all harsh lines and edges. “I didn’t want to do that, I didn’t.”

“Aw hell, kid.” He meant it in a soft way, empathetic even but the kid flinched. “Hey, it’s okay. I know, remember? I was there.” The kid didn’t seem comforted in the slightest, somehow even more tense. Sully needed a cigar.

“The problem with this business is that gentlemen like ourselves often end up on the wrong end of far too many gun barrels. The trick is, to not let them see your face long enough to know who to point it at.”

Nate said nothing, didn’t move beyond the minute relaxation of his fingertips. Sully had never before felt such a strong compulsion to reach out to someone, to tell them things weren’t quite as bad as they seemed. _Dammit, Sully,_ he thought briefly, _you’re already getting in too deep._ For once he didn’t fight the instinct, and placed his large, calloused hand carefully on the small kids shoulder.

“It’ll be alright; self-defence remember? You’re a pretty brave kid you know, to not be all shaken up over this. You’re gunna be just fine.”

For the barest of moments, a sliver of a fraction of a second, he could have sworn he saw the boy smile. And damn it all if the rotation of his entire universe didn’t halt and realign itself along with it.

 

* * *

 

 

“I’ll be right back Sully, just keep the plane running for a quick getaway.” Nate’s dirt smeared expression was pleading, barren in the face of one too many close calls and if Sully had ever had the desire to fight him on this, it crumbled in an instant.

“Yeah, yeah. Just come back in one piece, capiche?”

Get the damn plane running, bring the damned car close. That’s all he ever seemed to be able to do these days. He remembered a time when he’d be the one telling Nate to find a quick path out for them both while he charged into danger, not that the kid ever listened. But Sully had always been the straight muscle to Nate’s wit and sharp thinking, he was the bodyguard and the watchful eye and yet somehow Nate still got himself in situations that were far too close for comfort.

He’d been here many times already, anxiously pacing outside of a rental vehicle with a radio in hand staring down the smug clock’s steadily ticking hands with little to no word. It didn’t make any of it easier. It didn’t make the gunshots or the explosions or the radio silences easier to swallow either.

This time Nate was scared, though.

He’d played it off, like usual but Sully had seen it. They’d taken Elena hostage, they were running out of time but it was still a suicide mission and they both knew it.

There was nothing Sully would like more than to charge in himself and throw a few haymakers just to work off the tension, but someone needed to bring the plane around. Someone needed to have their escape route paved out in case Elena was hurt, or worse.

Sullivan wasn’t a patient man. There was only so long he could stand being out of the loop and Nate knew it, god damn him but he purposely cut him out anyways. Jumping across beams at the split last second that Sully had no hope of following, with a faked apologetic smile and a shrug and a ‘sorry, guess I’m doing this one solo’. As if he hadn’t known and planned all along for Sully to get split up and have to head back to their meeting point. Probably trying to keep him safe or something stupid like that.

Asshole, smug looking sunnuvabitch. _Keeping you safe is my job, dumbass._  But dammit, if Nate needed a getaway car, if Elena needed him to do this then by all means he would.

But he didn’t have to be happy about it.

Didn’t mean he couldn’t obsessively dwell on the split second flicker of real fear he’d seen in Nate’s eyes either. The kid didn’t outwardly show fear, if anything he always looked vaguely excited, thrilled and fueled by adrenaline. Nate expressing legitimate and honest emotions? Something was either terribly wrong or Elena was rubbing off on him in an adorably domestic way that Sully had yet to get used to.

The kid was desperately, hopelessly in love with Elena. It was in the way he looked at her, the way he became utterly reckless and stupid without her around. She gave his life warmth and meaning and it was so clearly written on every goofy doe eyed smile and every loose tilt to his shoulders, but Nate wasn’t done living the adventure. He needed to figure it out on his own time, put the pieces in place like a jigsaw puzzle he already had the picture for.

Sully would be lying if he said he didn’t care about Elena almost nearly as much, just in a different way. Elena was incredible, it was a simple fact, impossible to miss. She’d almost seen as much bloodshed and horrors as they had, yet she kept her sunny outlook all the same. She was positivity and hope and a meaner bite than a mountain lion, and she always kept everyone guessing. It was inspiring, really, to see so much light and naivety amidst thievery and murderers. Elena was also quite the firecracker, and wittier than all get out.

Frankly, Sully wasn’t sure how she even put up with Nate most of the time.

Probably the same way Sully did, too. The kid had that effect on people; something to do with his heroic streak, his honour among thieves’ mentality, his rugged morals and intense loyalty that led him to charge into danger without much of a thought purely just to take the punches for someone else. Once you’d earned Nate’s trust, it was hard to even consider betraying it. Like a damned kicked puppy. He saw the same look on Elena’s face a time or two, the one that screamed adoration with a touch of sadness like she wanted to keep Nathan from ever experiencing a bad day again but also wanted to smack him upside the head for being an idiot.

He understood the feeling.

It made him a little nervous, Nate having more lives he’d willingly lay his own down for. The wider the kids circle widened, the more trouble he was bound to fall into. It had been simple back in the day, no allegiances to worry about or bullets for them to charge towards. At the same time, Elena would do the same for them—had in fact, many a time. She’d attempted to fly into danger headfirst for Sully himself, at least from what he’d heard. All on he goddamned own like an idiot.

Really, the two of them were perfect for each other.

So, of course Nate had charged off towards danger to save her without a single backup plan. They both knew how heartbroken he’d been when Elena had almost died in Shambala, how he had nightmares for months after. Sully hadn’t been there but he’d seen the creased pages around Nate’s eyes that told storybooks all on their own, and he knew Nate. The kid took everything to heart, anyone innocent getting injured or put in danger because of him was like a bullet wound to the chest to him. Anyone he cared about being injured was even worse. Elena, nearly dead with tear stains on her dirty cheeks because of the sheer pain of her injuries, well. Sully didn’t have to be there to know how deeply rocked Nate had been. 

_‘Bring her back safe, kid.’_ He watched the nearby jungle tree line, listening for any hint of Nate’s usual flair, a particularly Drake inspired brand of luck.

Ah, and there it was. An explosion lit up the side of a nearby mountain, angry yelling echoing distantly as squawking birds scattered in every which way. That had to be Nate. He twisted the ignition key, and watched another explosion peek out above the thicker jungle gloom just as the engine sputtered to life.

“Sully? Sully come in…. hurt, he’s… help…” The radio crackled to life, words sputtering in between bouts of static. Sully’s stomach swooped then dropped, that was Elena’s voice. _Thank god that she’s safe,_ he thought first. Followed immediately by, _dammit Nate!_ The idiot would get injured badly enough to terrify Elena after she’d already had a harrowing experience. He would get hurt on his way _out_ of a near death situation.

God. Dammit.

The getaway plane was ready to go, but its important cargo was still MIA; injured somewhere just out of sight and out of pickup range. He’d done his job, waiting and fretting and turning on the damned thing. Who was to say he couldn’t join in on a little fun while he was at it. 

“I’m on my way, you just sit tight sweetheart. Keep the kid breathing, would ya?”

And, well, the plane was technically running. Nobody said anything about taking his shotgun and going for a nearby stroll. If he just happened to run into a few of the bad guys along the way, well. That was just lucky now wasn’t it?

Saving Nate’s ass was really, just part of his job description.

 

* * *

 

Dammit, Sully had really thought that this would be it. That his time watching Nathan Drake hanging off of clifftops and dangling over certain death was done once and for all. It had been stupidly naive of him, really, to think that Nate would ever want to call him for anything other than a job. They’d had two years of silence between them, so when his caller ID had shown a picture of a goofy looking idiot with dopey dimples, he’d known exactly what he was getting himself into.

Naturally, he’d answered without so much as a moment of hesitation.

He hadn’t been expecting the twists to follow, though. Samuel Drake, returning from the grave looking for all the world like a prison thug out on parole. Same mischievous glint to his eye, same cards up his sleeve, same blind adoration from his baby brother.

Sully was happy for them both, ecstatic really. He’d known how much carnage had been wrought after Sam’s death, how long it took Nate to even return to a semblance of himself and come to grips with any small fraction of it all. And Sam was a good kid, or at least he’d always had good enough intentions when it came to Nate but hell, how could Sully of all people fault him for that. Sam protected his brother as best as he could and that had always been enough for him.

But Sam also brought out the worst in Nathan.

Around his big brother, Nate was looser, laughed louder and rolled his shoulders back higher. Around Sam, Nate was Nathan. And Nathan had always been on the hunt for the next big find. It had taken him and Elena years to work through his hard head, to get him to understand that he had friends and family and he didn’t need glory to make himself loved.

Sam reverted all of that back in a single instant.

For Nate, everything was spinning wildly out of control. He was combusting inside underneath it all, no doubts in Sully’s mind. Sam was back, Elena knew she’s been lied to and Sully knows how desperately Nate is clinging to all of this. How fiercely afraid he is of losing any of it, and that’s the worst part. When Nate tries to hold things close he breaks them intentional or not; bad luck true to form.

Sully thought Nate was past this, past the lashing out and the obsessive hold and the fear but he can see it all as clear as day, telegraphing his moves just like the old days.

The worst part is that he knows Nate is going to regret all of this. But the worst part is that it’s Sam that’s causing it, it’s Sam that’s the catalyst and its Nate that’s getting caught in the crosshairs. But the very worst part is that there is absolutely not a god damned thing Sully can do other than to walk away and make sure the other fractured piece of their strange family wasn’t beating herself up too much. That and, bring the plane around when the time came just like he always did.

For once in over twenty years, there was no way Sully could pull Nate out of this because he had to do it on his own. Sully could hope and pray that their years had been enough, that the glimmer of what he’d always seen in Nate was still there despite of his desire to make his big brother proud. Because Sam had always been proud of him, that much was obvious.

Sam and Sully had more in common than nearly anyone, the unlucky job of trying to keep a single human disaster in one piece, despite the universes best efforts. The desperation to show Nathan a life bigger and better than this one, but never quite making it. The unshakeable belief that Nate would find his own way to greatness and be the brightest thing on this shithole of a planet.

Sam, also had the Drake family curse it seemed, though. He broke things apart, scattered plans to the wind as simply as breathing. As simply as he could say the words ‘our treasure’.

But Nate was better than his old days, but Nate had a family and a job and a normal life. But Nate had never been one for normal, and maybe it was time they all admit that.

“Make yourself useful, Sullivan.” The kid had bit the words out at him, lashing out he knew but never at him, not since Columbia. _Nate,_ he wanted to laugh, _can’t you see? I can’t help you. I can’t fix this one for you. You have to do it yourself, kid._ But it was a hard pill for him to swallow, too. Knowing that there was nothing he could do, no way to punch their way out of this because he could understand Nate’s intentions but they were taking him down a path he’d never willingly travel down.

Nate was unpredictable at the best of times but he was breaking everything apart and all of this was too terribly familiar. It ached in a way that made him feel old, feel all the aches in his bones and the fatigue to his limbs. He wanted to take this and make it something easily solved. Schmooze his way into an easier path for Nathan but this was his chance. Nate could prove them all right for once, show his true colours and mend it all and Sully believed in him more than anyone.

But Elena had been right, he needed to stop lying to himself, first.

The kid loved adventure, he was sure that the reason his cell number had gone uncontacted for the past two years was because he was trying so hard to be what Elena wanted. He was denying and burying it all, just like he’d done with Sam, with everything. The truth was that Nate wanted a family and a home but he also wanted to travel and explore and discover, and he didn’t know how to reconcile both ideals.

Years ago, Sully would have passed him a beer and a pat on the back and told him to sleep on it. Now he passed him on his way out, meeting only Nate’s hard stare with a sting caught in his throat.

_Just don’t get yourself killed out there, kid. We still need you, and god knows you need us._

“Why does he do this, Sully? Why can’t it just… be enough?” Elena’s watery eyes met his, just outside of the hotel chain with the moonlight reflecting off her tearstained cheeks. His chest tightened in sympathy, but he shook his head.

“You know him, sweetheart. He’s just gotta work it out on his own time. And with his brother—“

“Since when does he have a brother? How many secrets has he been keeping from me?”

He winced, rubbing the back of his neck. “That’s something you’re going to have to bring up with him. Just go easy on him, alright?”

She paused, reading his expression and finding something that make the fire in her sputter out. “Whatever happened really hurt him, huh? He said he thought his brother died… were they… were they close?”

“Closer than anyone.” Sully shrugged, the memories of a broken and shaken up Nate flashing through his mind, and the multiple jail trips while the kid grinned brightly like a bright new flashlight because, hey, his brother was there wasn’t he?

Elena paused, mulling over his words. He patted her shoulder gently, steering her onwards. “Let’s get out of here first, huh? You deserve a few drinks and a nice stress-free environment.” She glanced up at him, the warring pain and sympathy so evident in her expressive eyes. “Come on, we can worry about saving his scrawny ass later. We gotta let him at least dwell on this a little, huh?”

Elena smiled, a little cautiously and a little watery, but a smile nonetheless. “Yeah,” she sniffed. “let him suffer a little bit, the big jerk.”

“Hey, you’re the one that married him remember?” He winked.

The sun was already sinking low in the evening sky, purples and blues stretching outwards towards them like a spilled paint can and Sully really wanted a cigar. But Elena needed him and Nate needed him even though he thought he didn’t and really, everything would work out just fine.

As long as Sam didn’t get his brother killed on his damned quest here, but that was a dilemma for a different day. Right now there was a hammock and a margarita waiting for them both, and probably a few comforting words for the poor girl that had gotten her heart all tangled up in the disaster that was Nathan Drake along with them all.

One day he was really going to have to convince Nate to take Elena somewhere nice, she deserved more than tears and the faded yellow glow of hotel lights. But he supposed that’s where he came in, making sure their family stayed stronger together.

 

* * *

 

 

Sully woke up with a blinding headache in an unfamiliar location; really, a typical Monday morning. Though usually his headache was more alcohol based, and the location was some sort of bedroom, and not a run down looking metallic box. The trickle of what was probably blood down his temple said more than enough about the particular set of circumstances he was currently in.

As did the thick ropes binding his wrists.

Ah, _shit._

He remembered… Nate running off in a haze, searching everywhere for hours, Marlowe’s men popping up out of the god damned woodwork like the bunch of cockroaches they were and then, well.

Lights out for dear old Victor Sullivan.

And damn, he knew what it must mean for the agents to kidnap him. To even bother with securing some old man and not just killing him outright. In any other situation, the go to guy for clues was Nate; the kid seemed to always have a next step, a next clue, it was only logical to assume he’d be the key to whatever roadblock they faced. For them to be tying him up and going through the trouble of dragging him to a metal box somewhere meant bad news for the kid.

Potentially life ending bad news.

_Dammit, kid…_ A lump suddenly appeared in his throat, just as his thoughts finally began to straighten themselves out. He refused to believe that Nate could be dead, because he hadn’t been there. Nate always landed on his feet, always grabbed a ledge or a cliff or something on his way out. A dart wouldn’t be enough, would it? He couldn't imagine his life without the constant nagging of Nathan Drake and strange unbelievable situations. It felt like gravity had been switched off as reality sunk in, a distant panic caused his heart to palpitate and a verbal gasp of pain and sorrow to squeeze through him. Nate had to be alive. Or else Sully'd kill him himself for scaring him so bad.  

“Mr. Sullivan, nice of you to join us, again.” The sudden addition of a voice nearly made him jolt in his confined seating, as well as a flash of headache pound across his skull again. Ugh, he remembered now.

He’d been travelling with these bunch of assholes for a few days maybe, hours? It was hard to tell, locked in the back of the worlds bumpiest car ride with unhappy company. They were attempting to get him to decipher the location of the treasure, probably, but it sounded an awful lot like they were after something far worse. Typical to his and Nate’s luck, historically lost and immeasurably valued treasure was never enough for the greedy lot they ran against. More often than not their goals usually involved a lot more ‘world domination’ than he was really a fan of. Who needed infinite amounts of treasure when you were already wealthy beyond reasonable means? Why not throw a little assholery and evil supervillanness into the mix. 

“Are you feeling a little more cooperative today? Or shall we…continue where we left off?” He refrained from allowing a wince to spread across his features. Couldn’t give them the satisfaction of knowing how bruised and tender his ribs were feeling. Weakness in these kinds of situations often just led to more extended unpleasantness. Damn, he really was getting too old for all of this.

He had a witty remark all stored up on the tip of his tongue, or maybe just a wad of saliva, he wasn’t quite sure yet, when the car suddenly jerked to the side and slammed him against the wall. Angry voices fluttered back to him from the front of the car, his companion momentarily distracted.

Sully took the opportunity to pull at his restraints slightly, and felt the slight give of rope he’d been working on over the past few hours before he’d been rudely knocked out. The bump of the car had allowed the knot to slip just that much farther, small miracles. Sully very nearly smirked as the guard in front of him turned his back, and slipped his hands loose in one smooth motion.

He heard gunshots outside of the caravan, yelling and explosions, and one very distinctive ‘Oh crap’ he’d recognize anywhere. Before the guards knew what hit them, Sully slammed one into the wall and pushed the driver out of an open door. He wouldn’t let Nate take all the glory for himself after all, he wasn’t just a pretty face.

“Sully!” Nate cried, sounding incredibly relieved and he finally allowed himself to grin. "Hey kid," he called back, all forced casualty and fondness in one. He had no idea how Nate had found him, how he'd gotten all the way out here and- was that a horse? But by god, he was happy to see the kid still around and fighting back. And rescuing his sorry ass, too. And he didn't even have a thing to wear. 

The sunlight pounded spikes of agony into his brain, and the lack of water from his stay in the hell truck hit him full force, but he felt lighter than air. The kid was okay, of course he was. Nevertheless, the realization felt like finally filling his lungs after holding his breath for far too long. Like his world had stopped in its tracks and was finally beginning again, like his vision had been in monochrome and was suddenly a lit in a rainbow of depth and vividness. 

"Are you alright?" Nate called, throwing a guard over a handrail as Sully delivered a powerhouse of a punch straight to a poor saps solar plexus. 

"Never better!" 

There were still cars of armed bad guys, still a rather muscular one nearly bearing down on him, still a world to save but they could take it. Nate and Sully, just like the old days, just like always. Watching each other’s backs and taking the world by storm. His back cramped abruptly, and he mentally corrected himself. Nate taking the world by storm was probably better, he’d be there for moral support and witty commentary, and of course dashing good looks.

 

 


End file.
